


The Game Can Wait

by MidnightofLight



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Doubt, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4321983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightofLight/pseuds/MidnightofLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata forgets in the midst of a panic attack that it always ends up okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game Can Wait

**Author's Note:**

> I headcanon that before games, Hinata has panic attacks.  
> Enjoy!

I can’t stop shaking.

It’s like every bone in my body is rattling, disconnected from my joints in some twisted manner. I can see myself in the mirror, eyes going wide at the realization that I am the team’s decoy and that any small error from me can result in ultimate failure. My movements are uncontrollable, and I fall to my knees. There has to be someone else in my body. This isn’t me. It just can’t be.

But it really is.

This almost always happens before an important game. I find my way to the bathroom to get rid of stomach pain, despite my teammate’s reassurance that we’ll be fine and pull through and find myself staring in the mirror. I think of all the times I’ve caught a ball with my face or messed up a serve. These thoughts fill my head quickly—leaving little room to think rationally. _If you aren’t quick enough, you won’t be able to hit the ball. The team will be disappointed. Kageyama will be pissed. Can you handle that?_

_No no no I can’t handle that._

_Can’t you just see the looks on their faces?_

_Stop!_

My breathing picks up as my chest tightens. Everyone is sitting around, laughing, taking a break before the next play. I can picture Noya pumping up Asahi, with the result of everyone being inspired. He’s so cool. Noya never gets afraid. I do.

I grip my hands on the ground and try to concentrate on little specks of dirt wedged between the tiles. It’s a small attempt to get myself in order before everyone realizes I’ve been gone for too long. Kageyama will be the first to realize it for sure. There’s no way he’d let me miss a game when our quick strike is so important.

I have to get myself in order, but instead, panic takes over when I think about how I could affect everyone’s life. If we lose, it will be over. Daichi and Sugawara and Asahi will have their last season ruined because I’m too slow. Everything we've worked for will be lost.

My arms aren’t strong enough to hold me up anymore. They give out. I fall on my face, tasting failure; unable to do anything but lay there and tremble. The fear inside is like a balloon of anxiety that keeps growing and growing, threatening to burst at any moment. I feel so incredibly weak and pathetic that new emotions take over. I start to cry, ashamed, trying to spit out sobs. I feel so upset and I don’t know why.

_But you do._

I know why, but I want to forget. It’s because I can fail and if I do, my best friends in the whole world will think I’m a piece of shit. My coaches will be convinced I’m wasted effort. Kageyama will ice me out again. It’s too much to think about. The tsunami of thoughts is overwhelming. My brain won’t stop reminding me of the consequences of my actions, resulting in new waves of fear.

My chest hurts so badly. I manage to roll onto my side and curl into a ball, but the pain doesn’t stop. _I think I’m having a heart attack._ The thought hits me cold and hard that _I could be dying._ This must be what it feels like—scary and lonely. The balloon in my chest crushes up, condensing into a compacted ball. I find myself more and more out of breath.

I have to be dying. I grip where my heart is and try to steady my breathing. I’ve heard that counting slowly helps everything chill out. I’ve seen Daichi do it when he’s angry at us. I think of the numbers in my head, _one two three,_ but they go too fast. It’s impossible. This is where I’m going to die. I won’t even get to try and prove myself anymore, because I’m going to die on the cold ground of a bathroom. My body doesn’t even have the energy to call for help.

_As if anyone would help. You can’t even deal with a little pregame jitter._

_Stop! Please!_

__“Please!”

I cry and cry and wait for death, but it doesn’t come. I’m faced with the horrible realization that it’s going to be slow and painful. I think about my mom and Natsu. They’re probably at home, waiting to congratulate me on a win. Maybe they’ll expect Kageyama to come with me. It’s become a tradition to have dinner at each other’s houses at every game. They’ll all be so sad to find out that I died with no reason. Kageyama will curse me into oblivion. I know that for a fact.

I decide, after thinking of them, that I need to at least try to live.        

I attempt to push myself off the ground, even if my whole body is a complete mess. I have to get back to the team. They’ll be able to get me help. Or, maybe they’ll be pissed that I’ve screwed up the game. _Shit,_ can I really go to them like _this?_

I grab onto the sink and pull until I’m staring down at the ground. I look up in the mirror and see how horrible I look. My face is covered in tears, nose runny with snot. Everything else breaks when I realize that I can’t present myself like this. I am the appearance of my worst fears—they’ll think I’m a baby. That’s the last thing I want.

I fall back to my knees and curse myself for being so pathetic.

When hands grab my shoulders, I jerk away. I didn’t hear anyone come in. The sudden contact scares me—makes me feel even more constricted than I already am. I don’t want to be touched. Nobody should see me like this.

There’s a gruff, familiar voice:

“Hinata, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Kageyama.

My throat is dry. I can’t tell him that I’m dying or if I go out there and play, my presence could cause us to lose the match. Instead, my breath comes short and fast. There are broken words escaping my lips.

“Did somebody hurt you?”

There’s urgency in his voice. He gets no response.

“Hinata,” his tone softens. “Look at me.”

I can’t. I don’t want to see the disappointment on Kageyama’s face. It’s there, even though I haven’t met his eyes yet. He always looks so angry at me; frustrated at all the times I miss a simple damn shot. Imagine how mad he’d be if I took the losing hit.

The grip on my shoulders tightens and pulls me forward. It’s not close enough to make me uncomfortable, but not far enough for me to think that he’s trying to keep a distance. We’re on the floor of the bathroom; so close, yet so far away.

“Look at me,” he repeats. “Look at me.”

I try. I really do. But my head feels heavy, so I keep my eyes trained towards the ground where his padded knees are close to touching mine. The uniforms are usually such a comfort to me. It makes me feel safe—part of something. Right now, I just want to tear it off.

One hand leaves my shaking shoulders. Kageyama puts his fingers under my chin and lifts, forcing me to look. His eyes are steely and unforgiving, as usual, but there’s a certain softness to them that is calming.

“Hinata, what’s wrong?”

I’ve never seen him look so kind.

“The g-game,” I choke out. “It-”

“Can wait,” he says. It surprises me he says that, because if volleyball and I were drowning and he could only choose to save one, I’m pretty sure he’d pick volleyball. “Now, tell me what has you so worked up. We can’t worry about the game until you’re okay.”

He’s not supposed to be so nice. Kageyama, out of all people, isn’t supposed to be comforting me. My brain kept saying he would be mad, but seeing him here now, telling me that _the game_ can wait, it makes me want to latch on and never let go.

“I’m dying.”

He stares at me. Fear does not fill his eyes at the fact his spiker is dying. All good feelings disappear. I worry that he doesn’t care, even though it’s extremely stupid. A new rush of panic overtakes me as thoughts override his words of _the game can wait._ Ones about Kageyama never being my friend…ones about him leaving me to die on the bathroom floor…

“You’re not dying,” he finally answers. “There’s something wrong, but I don’t think you’re dying.”

He doesn’t understand. I’m terrified.

“I’m s-so scared, Kageyama.”

There’s no way I’d be able to describe what I feel. It’s more than scared. It’s total, complete anxiety. My mouth is full of words that I am unable to speak; blocked by pure fear and a thick, dry tongue. Kageyama’s mouth opens. It looks like he’s realized something. I just don’t know what.

_Probably that someone like you isn’t worth his time._

“I think you might be having a panic attack.”

 “I’m dying,” I repeat.

“No, you’re not,” he rolls his eyes, but I know he doesn’t do it out of spite, no matter how many times my mind says he’s annoyed with me. “Just try to breath. Here, I’ll count. In one, out on two, okay?”

I want to tell him that it didn’t work before, but I just nod.

“One.”

I take a deep, shaky breath.

“Two.”

It goes out.

“I’m so afraid to fail,” I interrupt. It’s the truth. I’m scared to let us lose when we’ve set such high standards for ourselves. I’m short, weak, and the only thing I’m good at is spiking the ball when Kageyama tosses it. That doesn’t even matter when I can’t hit the thing regularly half the time.

“It’s going to be okay. Stop worrying about stupid things like that. Now, let me continue, idiot. Just focus on my words, okay?”

My chest still hurts and I feel like I should get immediate medical help, but Kageyama’s never thrown the ball the wrong way before. Why would he now?

“’kay.”

He resumes, “one.”

In.

“Two.”

Out.

We fall into a sort of rhythm. My breath soon evens out, body stops shaking, and I realize I am not, in fact, actually dying. I’m shocked with the embarrassing realization that Kageyama is holding me in his arms. Shit. Nobody’s supposed to know about this. They don’t need to worry when they’ve got their own lives to think about.

Kageyama doesn’t let go, even when he realizes that I’ve calmed down.

“How long have you been having these?” He asks.

I could lie and say that it’s the first one.

But I don’t. We’ve always been honest with each other.

“A couple months.”

It’s been before almost every match. I can’t help the anxiety that gets to me. It starts with slow stomach cramps, and then blows up into pure panic. When I try to run away, it always manages to find and latch on, weighing me down.

Kageyama slips his hands to the small of my back and pulls me into a hug. “Dammit, how could I have not seen it?” His fists are clenched.

“It’s not your fault,” I try. It really isn’t. Why would there be any reason to suspect that the teams proclaimed ‘sunshine’ would ever break down in a bathroom? It’s like finding out that Noya is actually shy and timid—not very likely.

I know Kageyama will argue, so I say, “you made me feel better.”

Now that it’s over, I can go out and play. Once I get into that big gymnasium, all that fear floats free. There’s nothing greater than stepping over that line and hitting the ball of the net. Hearing that 'whoosh' and 'zoom' is like music. All of Kurasano plays together and creates the best kind of concert. I feel stupid for thinking that I could lose when I have such an awesome team behind me.

“Next time you feel like this, tell me,” Kageyama says.

“Okay.”

“You can trust me, moron.” He ruffles my hair. We’re still hugging, but he’s not looking at me. I would say he’s blushing, but I know Kageyama too well. “You know I’ll always set the ball to you, just like I know you’ll receive it.”

His words make me smile.

I’d forgotten in the midst of the panic attack that it always ends up okay.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr:  
> http://midnightoflight.tumblr.com/


End file.
